


Part Two

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Character Death But He's Fine, Coming of Age, Drug Use, Eat shit bob, M/M, Middle School, Non-binary character, References to Drugs, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mikey died on New Year's Day, 2001. He deserved better. The universe knew, and one angel decided to give him a second chance to live the life he should have had.These are Mikey's choices, good and bad.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea while driving by my middle school? Because that's how stories happen, apparently. And it's going to end up being Dallkey, but that won't happen for a while because of age shit. It'll be a slow burn, but it'll (hopefully) be a fun one. 
> 
> Warning for violence, drug use, and religious talk. Because it's an MCR fic, and we have those things.

**December 2000**

 

It was four in the afternoon and Mikey was stuck in traffic. It was the last day of school, right before Christmas, and he hated it. His wrists were bruised because Bob had caught him using again and now he was stuck waiting for a bunch of buses full of smelly preteens to get out of his way. 

 

Two of them were walking by Mikey’s car, talking with their hands on their backpack straps. Mikey rolled the window down to toss his cigarette butt out into the cold. “Don’t get excited, you little shits. It doesn’t get better than this.”

 

The kids looked up at him. Mikey spread his arms out. God, he hated his life. “See this? This is the great American fucking dream! Merry Christmas!”

 

Fuck kids. Fuck Bob. Fuck Gerard, too, for getting Mikey high again last night. Mikey wouldn’t be in pain if his baby brother hadn’t decided to be a little shit. 

 

* * *

 

“You’re a  _ what _ ?” Bob screeched, wrapping his hand around Mikey’s neck before Mikey could say anything. “What the fuck did you just say, Harper? You dumb bitch. You stupid, crackhead bitch. What did you say?”

 

“Let go of me,” Mikey croaked out, scratching at his husband. He hated Bob, but they’d been in love and he’d knocked Mikey up the night of senior prom. Mikey’s mom was taking care of the kid, because Mikey did drugs and Bob was violent and Child Services didn’t like that. They wouldn’t like knowing that Mikey’s mom hit kids, either, but they didn’t know about that. 

 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Bob spat in his face, and threw Mikey across the room. Mikey was tiny even though he was tall, and he felt like a ragdoll a lot of the time. 

 

“Don’t call me a bitch!” Mikey screeched, and threw the TV remote at him. 

 

“Fuck you!” Bob threw it back, hitting Mikey in the nose. “You think you’re a man? You sick fuck, prove it. You wanna be a man so bad, fucking act like it instead of the cunt I know you are.”

 

“Eat shit, Bob,” Mikey said, and spat at him. 

 

He grabbed his coat off the floor and headed towards the door. Bob caught him and threw him down on the floor before getting on top of him. Mikey spat at him. “Get off me!”

 

“You’re my wife,” Bob growled. “Now act like it. Or I’ll treat you the way I do any other fag I see.”

 

Mikey gritted his teeth and tried to get away. He couldn’t. He never could. He was fucking useless when it came to things like this. 

 

* * *

 

Mikey threw up on the floor. Gerard’s apartment was disgusting and it smelled strongly of cheap beer. Gerard himself was laying on the couch with dried blood on his face. Mikey crawled over to make sure he hadn’t overdosed while Mikey had been passed out on the floor. 

 

Gerard was alive. Well. That was good. Gerard was the younger one, so Mikey had to take care of him. It didn’t matter that Mikey had bruised ribs from Bob, or that his crotch felt like it was on fire anytime he tried to touch himself. Mikey was the older one. Mikey had to protect Gerard. 

 

His mouth tasted like shit, so he opened a bottle of beer on the edge of the coffee table and downed it. 

 

Bob hadn’t called yet. It was New Year’s Eve. He’d call eventually. Mikey would have to go back when that happened. 

 

* * *

 

Mikey woke up gagging, choking on his own blood. Gerard was still on the couch, still passed out. Bob was on top of him again, holding a knife. It was Gerard’s knife, from the kitchen. It had Mikey’s blood on it. 

 

Mikey looked down at himself. His stomach was bleeding. He was bleeding. He tried to choke out words, and Bob stabbed him again. He was wearing gloves and a beanie. He was pissed. 

 

“Fucking fag,” Bob snarled. “I should kill your brother, too. Useless crackheads, the both of you.”

 

“No,” Mikey managed to gargle out, and dug his hand into the carpet. He grabbed Bob with his other hand, digging his nails in hard. Mikey coughed, blood spurting out onto his face, and pulled out from under Bob. “No.”

 

“Fucking dumbass,” Bob said, and slammed Mikey’s face into the floor. He felt his nose break, but he kept trying to move. Gerard’s phone was on the ground. Mikey just had to hit three numbers. 

 

Bob stabbed him in the back. Mikey reached out. He had long arms. He could do this. Bob stabbed higher, and suddenly Mikey felt the air leaking out of him. He couldn’t fucking breath, and there was blood dribbling out of his mouth now, and his vision was fading. 

 

He had to save Gerard. 

 

He hit the nine. 

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Bob snarled, and stabbed Mikey again. “Dumb bitch. They can’t save you. You’ll be dead when I’m done with you.”

 

Mikey wasn’t trying to save himself. He hit the one. 

 

Bob laughed and stabbed him again. Mikey coughed blood onto the phone. He could barely see. His finger dropped onto the one. 

 

“Cunt,” Bob said, as Mikey heard the 9-1-1 operator faintly say, “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

 

Mikey opened their mouth and screamed Gerard’’s address, and then stopped screaming. 

 

* * *

 

Mikey was in a waiting room. It looked like the pediatrician’s office he’d gone to as a very small child. His mom stopped taking him when he was ten because she was afraid he’d tell the doctor where he really got the bruises from. 

 

Mikey was pretty sure it wasn’t the same office, though, because all of the other people around him were really fucking old. There was also a teenager, bald, crying in the seat across from him. 

 

Mikey swallowed. He didn’t like kids. They were annoying, and they asked too many stupid questions, but he didn’t want to see one cry. 

 

“Hey,” Mikey whispered. The girl cried harder. Mikey gritted his teeth. “Hey. Seriously. What’s the issue?”

 

The girl sniffled, and looked up at Mikey. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to my mom and dad. I… I died in my sleep and the last person I saw was the nurse! That’s not fair!”

 

“You don’t look dead,” Mikey said. She didn’t. She just looked sad. 

 

The girl rolled her eyes. “How dense do you have to be? I mean, look at you, you’re covered in blood. We’re all dead here.”

 

Mikey looked down at himself. He was covered in blood. A lot of blood. He looked up at the girl. “I’m dead?”

 

“Duh,” she said. She sniffled. “I wish I wasn’t… I just wanna see my parents.”

 

“I mean, you will eventually,” Mikey said. “Everyone dies.”

 

“But they were doing everything to save me!” she screamed. Tears were streaming down her face again. She was dressed in a hospital gown, and she didn’t have eyebrows either. Cancer patient. That sucked. She was probably fifteen, too. 

 

“You’re lucky,” Mikey said. “Not all parents love their kids.”

 

“Stop trying to make this better,” she said. “You know it won’t be.”

 

Mikey shrugged. He’d just been trying to help. 

 

“Michael Way Bryar?” a voice said from behind Mikey. No one had ever called him by that name while he was alive. It was chilling to here it now, in what was either Heaven or Hell if the Catholics had gotten it right. 

 

Mikey turned around in his seat, and almost fell out of it when he saw what had said his name. His eyes widened. “Holy shit. What are you?”

 

The thing was huge, maybe twenty feet tall, and it was on fire. It had wings coming out of every direction, and four heads. It’s eyes were empty sockets, with pure light spilling from them. It was glowing a faintly blue colour, and it’s flames were blue as well. It didn’t move toward Mikey, and none of the people in the room seemed startled. “I’m an angel. Please come with me so I can give your your consultation.”

 

Mikey looked at the girl. She was still crying. He stood up and followed the angel to the edge of the room. There weren’t doors. It just shifted from a waiting room to a principal’s office. The plaque on the desk was blank. 

 

Mikey sat down in the chair offered to him. “So. Uh. Can I get a name?”

 

“ Ο Ραφαήλ, ο Θεός θεραπεύτηκε,” the angel said. Mikey was pretty sure he’d just had a stroke. 

 

He frowned. “Can you say that again? In some language I can understand?”

 

“Raphael,” the angel said. 

 

“Can I call you Ray?” Mikey asked. 

 

“...I suppose,” Raphael said. It turned into a more human form then, but there were still three pairs of wings around it. It looked like a tall man with broad shoulders and curly brown hair. The angel’s wings were a light blue and they looked like they belonged on a dove. Raphael picked up a folder on it’s desk opened it. “Harper Madison Way. You don’t call yourself that, though, do you?”

 

“Uh, no,” Mikey said. “I never told anyone other than my brother, but, uh, I’m a man. A transgender man. Is that… does that mean I’m going to hell?”

 

“No,” Raphael said. It looked up. It’s eyes were still hollow and it was still glowing. This was more terrifying than any meeting Mikey had had with a principal when he’d been alive. Raphael could probably wipe him from existence if it wanted to. “There is no such thing as hell. At least, not in the way you think of it. Hell is based off of past experiences, just like heaven is.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Reincarnation, Michael,” Raphael said. “Everyone does it. Most people just don’t realise they’ve lived before, and get reborn as a completely new person. Your life and family situation is chosen based on how you lived in your previous life. Very few people in the universe get to remember who they were in their past life.”

 

“So, since I’m dead, can I know what happened to me last time that got me into my current life?” Mikey said. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done before this life to deserve the things he’d lived through. He must have been a horrible person. He’d probably been a serial killer. 

 

“Nothing, Michael. You’re a new soul,” Raphael said. “This was your first life. I had to have a very long debate with my superiors to allow this to happen, but I want to give you a second chance. You don’t have to take it, of course. If you want to forget everything that happened to you in the past twenty-seven and a half years, you may, and I’ll place you into your next life without your memories. But, I think you deserve a second chance.”

 

Mikey frowned. “Why?”

 

“Because, when Robert came after you, you weren’t concerned with yourself. You were more concerned with keeping your brother alive, and that’s something I’ve seen only a few times before,” Raphael said. “People are neither good nor bad. That’s the beauty of them. They do what they think is best for themselves, and sometimes they think of others. But, when they’re put in a dangerous situation, they always show their most selfish selves. You didn’t. You could have survived, but it would have cost your brother his safety. Your actions, in those final moments, changed his life line entirely.”

 

“So Gerard’s okay?” Mikey said. He could still see Gerard, passed out on the couch, unaware of the danger. “Bob didn’t--”

 

“Robert fled the scene after you said the address,” Raphael said. It smiled. “He didn’t touch Gerard.”

 

“And Gerard, is he… is he a new soul?” Mikey asked. “Like me?”

 

“No, Gerard is a very old soul,” Raphael said. “I’ve spoken with him a few times. He’s always very inquisitive about these things. He questioned his faith a lot when you two were alive, didn’t he?”

 

“He never… he still believed in God,” Mikey said. He bit his lip. “I… I didn’t. Sorry.”

 

“It’s understandable, given your life,” Raphael said. It leaned forward, it’s wings fluttering behind it. “Would you like a second chance, Michael? You’d keep your memories of the life you just lived, but you would come back into the world as a new person. You’d have new choices to make, new adventures to go on.”

 

“Is there a catch?” Mikey asked, because he felt like there had to be one. 

 

“Somewhat,” Raphael said. It sighed. The room shuddered, and changed to a church. Mikey was sitting in the second pew, and Raphael was beside him now. It’s wings were gone. It looked like a person, but it wasn’t. There was a cross up on the altar, and it was dripping blood. Raphael placed its hands over Mikey’s. “Michael, I have existed since the beginning. I have seen so much pain, so much turmoil, and it has made me bitter. The longer you live, and the more you see of the world, the more you have to fight the urge to hate it, to burn it down and start all over again. We cannot do that. Neither of us are God, and even though you may doubt Him, He does have a plan. You cannot stop it, whatever it may be. You can only help yourself, in the end.”

 

Mikey looked at the cross. He remembered being a kid, and learning about the crucifiction, and how Jesus had been stabbed in the gut while he was tied up there. Mikey looked down at his hand Raphael’s hands. Mikey’s wrists were still bruised, with Bob’s fingers imprinted into his skin. His shirt was tattered around his waist, and he was covered in blood. 

 

He looked to Raphael. “I’m not… I’m not the second coming of Christ, am I?”

 

“Many people get stabbed,” Raphael said. “You’re not special in that way.”

 

“Okay. I’ll do it, then,” Mikey said. “I just didn’t want to be some God project or whatever. I just want to be me.”

 

“You always have been,” Raphael said. It reached up and pressed its fingertips to Mikey’s forehead. Mikey closed his eyes, and he felt at peace. He felt like he didn’t have a body, but that he didn’t need one. He was a soul, and he was being rebirthed. Mikey breathed, and the air was clean. 


	2. Chapter one: Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive feedback on the last chapter, by the way. This fic is going to be really different, because I'm not sure what the characters are going to to yet. So, it'll be an adventure for all of us.

“Michelle! The bus comes in thirty minutes!” a woman’s voice called from the corner of Mikey’s mind. Mikey rolled his eyes. Somehow, he knew that this was his mom. He sighed and opened his eyes, and the world was dark. He turned over onto his stomach, and saw a radio with the time on it. Mikey squinted, and realised he needed his glasses.

 

They were wire rimmed, and kind of ugly. Mikey smiled. He liked them already. He put them on and saw that it was seven forty-five in the morning. He needed a calendar so that he knew when he was. 

 

Mikey got up, and found the light switch. He turned on the lights, and looked around his new room. It was painted lilac, and there were posters for bands he’d never heard of on the wall. He knew he liked them, but he didn't know any of them. They must have gotten popular after he’d died. 

 

There was a mirror on the back of his closet door, and Mikey got to look at himself for the first time. He knew his birthday was the same it had always been--September 10--and he knew he was eleven years old now. His reflection was a girl’s, which he hated. Raphael couldn’t have made him a guy? He had to do the whole transgender thing again? 

 

He wasn’t bad looking. He had curly, dirty blonde hair that went past his shoulders and swooped bangs. His face was thin and pointed, and his mouth was turned down into a frown. His eyes were green, like they had been last time, but he had more freckles now than before. He opened his closet and searched for the least girly thing he could find. He settled on a long sleeved striped shirt and a pair of ripped black jeans. 

 

He pulled his sleep shirt back, but he was still pretty flat. He grabbed a training bra anyway, because he had those, and he was pretty sure he was supposed to be using them. 

 

He showered, and changed into his clothes, and headed downstairs. His mom was tall, with a blonde bob and green eyes just like his. She gave him a look. “You sure you won’t be hot in all that?”

 

Mikey looked outside, and then pressed his hand to the glass. It wasn’t too warm out. “Yeah. I’’’ll be okay. What’s breakfast?”

 

“Eggs and toast,” she said. “It’s at your place at the table. Your dad had to go into work today, but he told me to tell you good luck.”

 

“Thanks,” Mikey said.

 

“Hopefully this school will fit you better than the old one,” his mom said. She gave him a sad smiled and tucked his hair behind his ear. “I’m sorry we had to move while you were still in school. You still have your friends from last year saved in your phone, right?”

 

“Uh,” Mikey said, because he didn’t realise he had a phone. There was something in his pocket, though, and Mikey pulled it out. His mind told him it was a phone, but it didn’t look like one. It looked like a miniature TV screen. Mikey nodded to his mom. “Yeah. Totally.”

 

“Good,” she said, and smiled for real. “Don’t forget to make actual friends at school, though. You can’t live in the past.”

 

* * *

 

Mikey had figured out it was September 6, 2012. The president was now a half-black dude named Barack Obama, and the country was at war with the Middle East. According to the internet, which was a lot faster now than it had been before Mikey died, the US had been fighting in the Middle East pretty much since Mikey died. Current Mikey had been born the day before a famous terrorist attack that everyone knew about, and he wondered if Raphael had done that on purpose. 

 

Mikey pulled out his schedule, and had a horrible realisation. He didn’t remember any of the shit he’d learned in school during his last life. He remembered all the things he’d learned through fifth grade, but he wasn’t going to be able to just coast through school. 

 

Mikey glared up at the sky. That wasn’t fucking fair. He hoped Raphael knew that. 

 

“Watch where you’re going, nerd,” someone growled as Mikey ran into them. 

 

Mikey pushed his glasses up his nose and stared the person down. “Or maybe you shouldn’t get in my way, dumbass.”

 

He could still swear like a grown ass man. That was good. Mikey didn’t want to live through the phase where he said fuck every other word again. It had been cool the last time he’d been eleven, but he knew now that it wasn’t. The guy who’d said it looked thrown that a tiny kid was calling him a dumbass. Mikey used that moment to brush past the guy and head towards his first period class. 

 

Middle schools had class periods now. That was different. His first class was located in the back of the building, in a corner. Mikey was one of the last people to arrive, and he was the only one not carrying a bunch of fancy new notebooks. Mikey frowned. Great. So his parents were poor again. Raphael really wanted to teach him some kind of lesson, didn’t he.

 

The kids looked up at Mikey, judging him. This was a new school, and a new life, and Mikey could put himself in any social group he wanted to. 

 

He headed towards the rich kids, thinking that maybe this time he could make himself popular and not get bullied for the next six years, but then his eyes landed on a kid in the back row. He was thin, with a bad haircut that looked homemade, and he was wearing an oversized polo shirt. He was also reading a thick ass book. He looked incredibly lonely, and he reminded Mikey of Gerard. Gerard, who was awkward and quiet and the picture perfect tortured artist. 

 

Mikey couldn’t let another Gerard exist. He turned on his heel and dropped his shit into the chair next to the kid in the back. “Hi. I’m Mikey.”

 

“Dallon,” the kid said. “I skipped a grade.”

 

“Sweet,” Mikey said, and thought,  _ I skipped the last eleven years of my life, kid. Keep up _ . “I’m new to this school, too. So I don’t think I know anyone yet.”

 

“Oh,” Dallon said, and went back to his book. His cheeks were a startling red. Mikey opened his own backpack and dug through it, only to be surprised when he saw that all of his shit was brand new. It wasn’t sparkly or shiny like the popular kids, but it was in amazing condition. He pulled out his binder and set it on his desk, flipping open to the first piece of paper and writing down everything he could think of that he’d need to know about his new life. 

 

Dallon leaned over and looked at what Mikey was writing. Mikey slammed his binder shut over his arm. “Hey. Personal space.”

 

“Sorry,” Dallon said. His cheeks were bright red again. His eyes were a clear blue colour, and they looked especially blue because he was blushing. “I thought… I thought you were writing something. I want to be a novelist when I grow up.”

 

“You know that doesn’t pay much, right?” Mikey said. He’d watched Gerard go broke trying to sustain his art, and he didn’t want that to happen to this Dallon kid, either. 

 

“Everyone tells me that, but they haven’t seen what I can do yet,” Dallon said. He had this confident little smile on his face, and Mikey couldn’t make himself destroy it. It didn’t matter how good Dallon was. If he wasn’t the next Stephen Fucking King, he wouldn’t be able to live on words alone. 

 

Instead, Mikey smiled back. “Well, maybe you should show me one day.”

 

* * *

 

School was boring. Mikey met a guy named Gabe in his history class who was Jewish and could speak Spanish. He also met Ashley in that class, and her dad was a car mechanic and she wanted to be a pop star. She had thick, curly brown hair and braces, and her binder was covered in pictures of the same boy band in Mikey’s room. They were called One Direction, and Gabe thought they sucked but Mikey and Ashley loved them. 

 

Ashley invited Mikey to come to her church’s youth group, because it wasn’t boring and they apparently had free pizza and wings. It sounded awesome, and Mikey told her he’d try to be there if his parents were cool with it. Gabe declined, for obvious reasons, and instead suggested that they bring him wings to school the next day. 

 

Ashley’s church ended up being the church that Mikey’s parents went to. Mikey wasn’t sure how he felt about that, because he didn’t want to go to church if it meant really going to church. Mikey wasn’t a Christian. It didn’t matter that he’d died and literally met an angel. He didn’t like God, and he didn’t want to pray to the dude either. If he had issues in this life, he could just track Raphael down and yell at him. 

 

Mikey ended up at the youth group anyway. It was better than hanging out upstairs with his parents and their friends who had babies for kids. 

 

“Mikey!” Ashley yelled as Mikey walked into the room. Mikey waved with one of his chicken wings, and held the plate in the air so that Ashley wouldn’t knock it over. She pulled him into a hug and ran him around in a circle. “You’re here!”

 

“Yep,” Mikey said. “Turns out this is the church my mom and dad decided to join. What a coincidence.”

 

“Ha, nice. I need you to meet Pete, he’s awesome,” Ashley said. She let go of Mikey and then skipped off into the room. Mikey followed her, because he had no where better to go. 

 

Pete was also in sixth grade, but he’d been held back a year because apparently he had a lot of issues. Pete didn’t explain his issues, but Mikey noted the wristbands covering his arms to the elbow and figured it out for himself. That sucked. Being suicidal was shitty enough, but being a suicidal kid was probably the worst thing imaginable. 

 

“So, what makes you so cool?” Mikey asked. “Ashley wanted to introduce us.”

 

“It’s because you’re both really deep and depressing,” Ashley said. She turned to Mikey. “No offense. You seem cool, you’re just way too serious sometimes.”

 

“My mom says I’m emotionally mature; maybe that’s why,” Mikey said. He sat down next to Pete, who smelled strongly of Axe body spray. Mikey wrinkled his nose. Was that what all the teenage guys were wearing these days? It was kind of gross. Mikey extended his hand out to Pete and tried to breath through his mouth so that he didn’t get high off the Axe fumes. “Hi.”

 

“Hey, I like your hair,” Pete said. “It’s a nice colour on you.”

 

“Thanks,” Mikey said. “I kind of hate it. I want to go short.”

 

“You’d look badass with short hair,” Pete said. 

 

Ashley rolled her eyes. “You say that to everyone.”

 

“Because everyone looks badass with short hair!” Pete said. One of the youth leaders told him to watch his language, and Pete pouted out a sorry before turning back to Mikey and Ashley and rolling his eyes. “Ugh. Anyway, short hair is good on anyone, I promise. It’ll make you look cooler, and older, and all the hot girls have short hair anyway.”

 

“I thought only lesbians had short hair,” Ashley said. 

 

“Lesbians can be hot too, I don’t discriminate,” Pete said. 

 

Mikey raised his eyebrows. These two were surprisingly casual about gay people. “Wait, are you guys, like, cool with gay people? Or is this some weird joke I missed out on because I was an awkward kid and didn’t have a lot of friends?”

 

“I don’t care who you like,” Pete said. He sat up taller, looking quite proud of himself. “I think I might be bisexual myself, and if anyone at school or at church has an issue with that, then I’ll just have to kick their ass. Love is love, and no one should be punished for loving another person.”

 

“I'm not gay, but I support gay people, you know,” Ashley said. “Like that Lady Gaga song that came out last summer…  _ no matter gay straight or bi, lesbian transgender life _ ,,, I’m all for that.”

 

“You guys are awesome,” Mikey said, instead of coming out. People acted more accepting than they really were, and he knew better than to blindly trust anyone he’d just met. He could trust Pete more than Ashley, since Pete was actually bisexual, but Mikey only liked guys. Pete and Ashley, and everyone else he knew in this life, thought he was a girl. He wouldn’t be coming out as anything now if he told them he liked guys. 

 

“It’s basic human decency,” Pete said, shrugging and pulling on his wristbands. “But I mean, there are still asssholes out there. So, you know, if you’re questioning, be careful. Don’t get hurt.”

 

“I won’t,” Mikey said. “I’m smarter than that now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you liked it, and feel free to come talk to me on tumblr @throamspallon as well!


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